


Hiraeth

by StairwellWit



Category: Gambit (Comic), Guardians of the Galaxy (Comics), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, literally everyone is a little shit, not beta read - we die like meh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-03-06 22:11:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18860125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StairwellWit/pseuds/StairwellWit
Summary: Peter wasn't Ego's first child from the planet Earth. Before Meredith Quill's pregnancy, Ego met a man by the name of Nathaniel Essex. A man who claimed he could create the child he had been searching for in turn for certain favours. A child strong enough to handle the Light. Dr. Essex does succeed but before Yondu Udonta can retrieve the child his old friend, Jean-Luc Lebeau, sweeps the infant from under his feet. When Yondu returns for the second time Jean-Luc will reveal Ego's plot and a pact to protect the two children is formed.Years later Ego is defeated, Yondu is dead, and Peter isn't willing to accept the Centaurian is truly gone. When Kraglin reveals there may be someone who knows how to help, and he may be Peter's half brother, the team must go to Earth to find the man who calls himself Gambit and trek across galaxy for the sake of family.





	1. Pilot Episode

**Author's Note:**

> This story came from a massive idea between me and my friend, Courtney, who runs the Le Diable Blanc Gambit dedicated website. We built up the idea years ago, right after seeing Guardians 2 in theatre, and it ran away with us and became one of our little chat topics for fun when we were having bad days. Something recently has gotten me in the mood to try and write it out. Practice for timeline and storylines really, and I thought I would try dropping it here and seeing if anyone took interest.  
> Please leave notes and reviews! A lot of this continuing will probably depend on how much feedback I get so please let me know what you think and if you want to read more of this plot line!  
> (While there are a mixture of comicverse characters/plot points I will make a point to explain all of them in story so there aren't any lost references)  
> Always love and thanks  
> -S

Madripoor - 1988

  
  


The exact moment the hatch of the Hiraeth opened, sweeping a hot wave of mugginess into the ship, Kraglin had announced vehemently the weather was “ _unjustifiable_ ”. Immediately knocking mulishly at the air coolant control then shouting again as the decompressors huffed moisture into his face. Their open exit window off this Terra had ended hours ago. This left his first mate ruffled up like some angry scrawny bird, all elbows and angles raging, and Yondu with very little to do but roll his eyes while checking their coordinates to make sure they'd landed close enough to the checkpoint. They'd still make as hasty a get away as they could manage this late in the game.   
"You sure about goin' alone, boss" Kraglin's head tilts over Yondu's shoulder, grease smeared over his cheek from crawling under the console to adjust settings for the humidity.   
"Yea. Ain't nothin'. Jean-Luc may be a two bit thief but he ain't nothing to worry about. Sides need you here to watch the ship, and Spat is doin' alright keepin' the kid from shittin' himself so far."  
Kraglin nodds, jerky but strong, the way he does when he doesn't like a plan but he agrees nonetheless. Yondu had told him before he was too loyal for his own good.   
He'd meant it.  
"Make sure Grovel doesn't eat him. I'll be back soon. 'M not wastin' no more time on this than we already have. Be ready to dispatch when I get back."  
"Sure thing, Captain."   
\--  
Had this been another planet, another time, another life, Yondu may have let himself lend a thought to the fact he actually particularly enjoyed this weather. He may have even risked Kraglin's expression at the admission. Madripoor is a miserable spit of land dropped somewhere along the Singapore Strait just off it's latest monsoon season. Heavy drops of rain still falling from the canopy catching on his Ravager Reds. The heat and rain left the air sticky and thick and perfect.  
It nudged something in the back of his mind, prodded a scab of instinctive home sickness. Baser instincts he tried patently to ignore when he could. It was a world he hardly remembered but something his body still ached for under the right circumstances.   
The coordinates given to them had left them on a half rotation from the main city. In other words: the middle of bum fuck nowhere.   
Leave it to Lebeau to be as annoying as he was smart.   
When Yondu breeches the wall of a half clearing it is with minimal stealth and maximum scowl. Refusing to let the muzzy warmth under his sleeves lift his moods. There are no pleasantries to be had here. Not for this human standing across the puddled ground.   
Not on this Terra and not in this life.  
"You better have a damn fine reason for dragging my pretty pert ass down to this shit hole, Lebeau"  
The man turns and Yondu's mood does not improve one bit. Jean-Luc Lebeau hasn't aged in the many years since Yondu had seen him last. Nearly ten, maybe fifteen years, in earth standards and he still looks middle aged and fit as ever. Even having been born, to Yondu's understanding, nearly 100 years prior this he wears no show of it in any traditional human way.   
This was all something Jean-Luc had explained to Yondu once, back in their early days. Back when they were partners, before Jean-Luc stole from him.   
Something about an exclusive club and a fancy drink from some bossy tart. Yondu was too mad to recall faced with Jean-Luc's lying self.   
"Yondu, it is good to see you mon'ami."  
He had also forgotten it until just now it was Jean-Luc's accent he'd picked up back in the day. No wonder the kid had looked so confused after tapping the translator plug behind his ear. The Universal translator grabbed the first accent it heard from each world and meshed it in with the owner's natural voice, making the speech pattern more authentic while still unique to each individual. There was really no telling what he sounded like to human speakers, he couldn't imagine it was particularly entrancing.  
"Don't you _Ami_ me. You know we ain't friends no more, Lebeau. Now what you want, boy."  
"Are we not friends anymore?"  
"You know _damn well_ -" Yondu cuts himself off, growling a deep sound and kicking an exposed root to reel himself in. "You know damn well," he starts again, finger jabbing out, a hair less explosive, "we ain't friends no more, Lebeau. You steal from _me_. Damn near get me caught out in the open, _Ego_ on my ass, not to mention the almost _mutiny_. Or your little robber club ain't got no such thing as honour? You just throw each other under buses left and right for fun?"   
Lebeau's eyes ticked to the side, "We are bad about that last bit on occasion. But it was nothin' personal Yondu. What I did it wasn't about you, and I wanted to explain, but you were gone before I could."  
"There ain't _no good reason_ -"  
"It's a guild.."  
"- _What!_ " The small voice had chirped from behind the tree Lebeau had been leaned near at the start of their encounter. Young and restlessly jittery, a boy appears half hidden looking out at the blue alien. "The fuck you say, boy?" Yondu snaps back to Jean-Luc and points to the new addition to their soiree, "What? We tradin' now or are you givin' 'im back. Little late now ain't it?"   
"I said it's a guild,” the kid pipes in again, “Not a club. It's a Thieves Guild." His voice is slightly stronger than before, lanky limbs yet to be grown into climbing out from behind the tree. The kid is only a few years older than Peter, the boy in the ship with Kraglin, but he holds himself stronger, like he was being trained to support the world on his shoulders. Like there's something not quite _Human_ about him. Yondu stares long and hard, trying to center his rage at Lebeau away from the youngster.   
"Yea, sure, alright. A Guild. 'Scuse me, kid. Why's he here. You obviously ain't givin' him back."  
"He's here because I wanted you to meet him and to explain why I took him before you got to him." Jean-Luc's eyes rarely took a hard edge, had not to ever taken this edge to Yondu. Not during their escapades together and never even in the few life or death situations they'd seen. But standing here now, in the wet of Mardripoor's forest, Jean-Luc's face darkens and Yondu looks up to the sky. Looks for the small cluster of Centauri, the small cluster of a home that never wanted him, inhaling the humidity, tasting the mud and rain flavoured air. The bile taste in his throat rising tells him this story is not one he wants to hear, because it is one he has unknowingly played an antagonist in. Yondu Udonta of the Ravagers, nauseous and terrified, nods, “You got five minutes, Jean-Luc.”

 


	2. Thirty Seconds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It hadn't even taken thirty seconds. Thirty seconds of the five minutes Yondu had given him and Jean-Luc tore everything Yondu had been working at for years into pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i typed this out and then half of it got messed up and lost so i had to retype it and it was traumatic to be honest, lmao.
> 
> always a shout out to Courtney over at http://www.lediableblanc.com/   
> she gets to listen to me bitch and moan about timelines, lmao 
> 
>  
> 
> here is a link over to an image of Spat and Grovel for those who have never read the very few comics they appeared in: https://static0.cbrimages.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2017/02/cblr517displaya.jpg
> 
> and as always much love!  
> -s

It's a common misconception across the Universe that Alpha Centauri is a single star. From here, at the edge of Solar, skidding the smallest little sphere the humans call Pluto, Yondu can understand. It's not something he has thought of in a very, very long time. Often times it is something he avoids entirely. Living in the void of space the splattered background of distant stars, planets, ships and satellites becomes a norm. Nothing more than monotonous wall paper. So much so it's easy to forget each of those spots are living in their own ways, as ignorant to you as you are to them. Perhaps this, for a long time, was something Yondu liked. It is easy to look away, to find any other direction in existence to look at but the direction of home. That blinding splotch of Alpha Centauri that represents every ounce of betrayal he lives so hard to ignore, and every aching loss for a home he wishes he had truly had.   
The fact is, there are two stars in the main Centauri system; a binary pair that dance around each other in Yondu's poor memories of his early life and another star, a small red dwarf, that sits nestled like a wallflower nearby, close enough that the Centaurians claim it as part of their own. Yondu remembers the stars and the differences in the light each gave through the leaves of the rainy forests and muggy air, the warmth of them through his fin, back when it was still natural. Tall and soft, beautifully red, veined and webbed, rather than the heavy mechanical wedge he has cresting from his skull now. How Alpha Centauri is believed to the naked eye to be a singular celestial being Yondu can easily understand. His home system is barely a speck of dust here, there is no obvious separation between the stars. He hasn't searched it down for decades, but it takes less time to blink than it does for him to find that speck. Even as the closest star bunch to Earth it is still just one bright, minuscule, ounce of light scattered in with the rest of the universe. Alpha Centauri is what the humans measure as 4.37 light years away, barely a full jump for the Hiraeth, just a quick breath from contact but so very out of reach. And Yondu understands just now in this moment that this is what he has given to Peter, what he's taken away; a home he will never want to truly touch again, even dangling right in front of his face. Yondu knows this from experience. Sitting here, at the end of the Solar System, Yondu hates this epiphany more than any other in his entire life.  
When they'd broken the atmosphere Peter had vomited at the sight of his world shrinking off the main external view screen and Yondu began to wonder just how vague the universe is to this little world. Just how immune had he become to anything but the floating vastness beyond planetary existence? He'd nearly forgotten the first time he had seen his home disappear behind him. The devastation. He'd forgotten that on purpose, compartmentalizing between the blurred memories of Kree slave drivers and hard labor. It hadn't been too difficult to forget.   
The other children before Peter, it hadn't been like this, he'd had something to give them. Hope, happiness. Family. He'd been taking them to their father, and now belatedly Yondu wonders if the accidental side effects Ego had spoken of from mating with non-celestial beings weren't accidental at all. Killing the children's mothers…That hardly seemed far fetched now.  
Behind him, in the main hold, Peter has fallen asleep finally, or passed out more like. Curled up in the amphibious body of Grovel. The giant creature, barely full grown and already hardly fitting on the smaller class ships anymore, breathes heavily from his mouth causing his gills to go flapping with his snores. All four of his massive legs sprawl around him, claws out and tail swatting at the back of Spat's chair where she is cleaning her weapons. The two of them, Spat and Grovel, had been just kids when Yondu had picked them up off a Kree tanker ship his crew had over taken. The pair were locked in a cage in the fo's'cle, attached at the hip and not much older than Peter now. Spat is human, like Peter, they still aren't sure what Grovel is. Regardless, Yondu had taken them into the crew with no questions asked. Ravager life? It's not an easy life, but it is a life. One that comes with a family of sorts, built in with loyalty and brotherhood. Those kids what he'd taken to Ego…  
"We're keeping him."   
Kraglin nearly tips out of his chair, teetering back from his Captain's sudden announcement, "W-what??"  
"The kid. Quill. Peter, whatever, I'm- _We're_ keepin' him."  
"But _sir_ -"  
"Aint no buts.”  
“ _Ego._ ”  
“Ego's got enough kids to do his junk. 'Sides he skimped on our pay last two times, didn't he? Ain't payin' us enough as is."   
Kraglin looks confused but nods his head yes anyway. Too loyal for his own good, agreeing now even when Yondu knows he's talking nonsense and nothing he has said makes any sort of sense to either of them. Yondu spins his chair and looks at the little human clutching at the knapsack he'd had when they had grabbed him up. He's put little padded bits of orange over his ears with chords leading down to a little whirring box.  
"'Sides he's skinny. Good for thievin'."   
"You ain't got to explain Cap'n...”  
“He can slip into the air shafts easy. We can get him suited up, make him one of us, proper like.” Spat glances over but doesn't say anything, she's just as loyal as Kraglin, and she knows that look. Knows that the decision has been made for Peter just like it had been made for her and Grovel.  
“If we ain't takin' him to Ego can't we just take him back home?”  
“We can't just have him gallivanting around yellin' 'bout ships and blue people and lizard monsters, Kraglin, you know that, just drop him back home what kind of-”  
The look his first mate gives him cuts him off smooth, a clean little slice in the middle of his rant. He hates that look, hates that it sees right through his bullshit, hates he can see his panic reflected back at him in the soft concern on Kraglin's face.  
"The hell did LeBeau say to you?" 

..

“ _He's killing them.”  
_ _It hadn't even taken thirty seconds. Thirty seconds of the five minutes Yondu had given him and Jean-Luc tore everything Yondu had been working at for years into pieces. His delusions of grandeur, taking broken kids to a home they hadn't known they had. He'd seen Ego's planet, it was perfect, damn near paradise like if he had ever an inkling of what paradise could be. Stakar hadn't understood, said they were dealing in skin, and he had told him to go to Ego. To just look, to give Ego a chance and see this castle built for these children. Begged Stakar, the one man who had taken him in, who had done this exact thing for him. The man who had given Yondu the universe. Yondu had just wanted him to see they'd been doing the right thing. He'd thought..  
_ _He had truly thought..  
_ _From the look Jean-Luc was giving him the thief knew exactly what Yondu was thinking, the abject terror wasn't hidden from his face, couldn't be hidden if he tried.  
_ “ _The_ fuck _you tell me, Jean-Luc.”  
_ “ _I am sorry, Yondu. I truly am..I know this isn't what you-”  
_ “ _The hell with what I wanted, you explain this right now. I've got a kid on my ship right now, you got a kid right here right now and you're telling me they're as good as dead. Now you explain, and you explain real good.”  
_ _Jean-Luc sighed long and heavy. It was the first sign of his age Yondu had seen. The sigh he gave was one of an old  wearied man, someone much older than the soft grey at his temples and the lack of lines on his face. This was the sigh of a man who knew what it felt like to have bone marrow replaced with exhaustion. Yondu knew this feeling well._

…

_By the time Jean-Luc had finished explaining Yondu had thrown up in his mouth twice. His throat scalded with acid, his eyes wet, and his nails cutting into the meaty parts of his palms. He'd been played, and innocent kids were dead.  
_ “ _So what now?”  
_ _The human shrugged, “We protect them. Best we can.”  
_ “ _What about, Peter? Can't just drop him back off, his mom just died, he's been in the ship with Grovel for fucks sake. You gonna take him too?”  
_ _Jean-Luc shook his head, “He'll be reported missing and we're too close to home, I can't take him, it'll bring too much attention. Beside that I'm not sure having two of Ego's children attached to each other would bode well either.”  
_ “ _So what, I take him with me?”  
_ “ _You have the best chance of keepin' him hidden. The universe is a big place, Yondu, and you don't have anyone to answer to you can just-”  
_ “ _I have a_ whole crew _to answer to.”  
_ “ _Tell them he didn't pay, Ego didn't pay, so now the kid is with you. You've got to come up with something, Yondu.”  
_ _Looking up to the sky the Centaurian exhaled slowly and weighed his options. This kid, maybe he could drop him off on Xandar. It was similar enough to Earth, even in appearance, the Xandarians could pass on this planet with ease. Perhaps one of the orphanages would be open to...  
_ _But how would he know that Ego hadn't gotten him. How would he know that that damn walking planet hadn't tracked the boy down. He wouldn't. He couldn't just stalk him his whole damn life, or make excuses to check in, Xandar wasn't exactly Ravager vacation ideal-  
_ “ _You've got to keep him with you.”  
_ _The kid, Remy, who had been quiet again up until this point looked like he'd made the decision for everyone and wasn't looking for an argument.  
_ “ _Mr. Udonta, you've got to keep my brother safe. If you don't who else will? You can't just leave him somewhere. What if Ego gets him? I've got Jean-Luc to watch out for me, who will watch out for Peter?”  
_ _His eyes, red as Yondu's, brokered little chance for opposition. Children left so little room for infinitesimal things like concerns or consequence or death threats. The simple fact of it was: Yondu who had started this and it was now going to be Yondu's job to fix it and finish it. Yondu couldn't really argue with that logic.  
_ “ _Yea. You're right, kid. I'll watch him.”  
_ “ _Promise?”  
_ _Yondu bent to his knees, one large hand stretching out to the small Terran's to take. When he did, a spark of power prickled against the Centaurian's hand straight from the boy's.  
_ “ _I, Yondu Udonta, of Alpha Centauri, of the Ravagers promise you, Remy LeBeau of Earth's Theives_ Guild,” _Remy grinned at the specification, squeezing Yondu's hand tighter, “I will protect Peter Quill of Earth for as long as I live and breathe and after if I can manage.”_

 


	3. Rapid Eye Movement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> much love!  
> -s
> 
> here are some reference pictures if anyone wants to see!  
> M'Kraan Crystal: http://vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/marveldatabase/images/2/27/M%27Kraan_Crystal_from_All-New_Official_Handbook_of_the_Marvel_Universe_Update_Vol_1_1_001.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20161125074709
> 
> Chandilar: https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/marveldatabase/images/b/b1/Chandilar_from_Avengers_World_Vol_1_17_001.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20160630141310
> 
> Shi'ar hair: https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/marveldatabase/images/1/1e/Xandra_%28Earth-616%29_from_Mr._and_Mrs._X_Vol_1_3_001.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20180922042311

On the outskirts of the Shi'ar empire Yondu teaches Peter how to hunt. The rest of the crew is taking a celebratory cycle on Contraxia for their latest heist, their rowdiness sparking the 9 year old's interest immediately. Peter doesn't actually know what Contraxia is and no one is saying between their hoots and hollers and what he imagines are probably lewd gestures. When he asks Yondu the captain flounders around an answer and finally says “Kids ain't allowed,” then tosses him into the topaz colored ship he had abducted him in and shoots off into the stars.   
The first place they stop is all metal, all shining; bursting with energy and filled with people with arrow shaped hair - not hair; feathers, he is corrected. Yondu tells Peter the name of this galaxy, by human titles, is called Andromeda. The Shi'ar rule it from the planet they are on called Chandilar. It's what they consider their Throneworld and it is central to their sprawling empire. The Shi'ar, Yondu says, are invasive but..”In a semi-decent way..”  
The captain doesn't actually seem wholly convinced saying it but explains that even if the Shi'ar do take over they don't expel other cultures. The cultures continue to thrive and exist as they had been before, just under an ever watchful Shi'ar rule. This is not like the Kree or Skrull or Badoon, who assimilate, eradicate and destroy everything they touch. Peter isn't familiar with all of these names yet, but knows some day he will be. He knows he will have to be, because this is apparently his life now, so he listens as hard as he can. Even when Yondu starts to explaining things about giant ancient crystals and neutron galaxies, Peter still tries to wrap his brain around it all as best he can. Yondu speaks more alone with Peter than he has heard the captain speak in the whole of his year on the Eclector.  
The planet they are on now, after Chandilar, isn't so much a planet as a well terraformed open range hunting moon. Peter explains how he saw the video of the Earth moon landing once, but it was all dirty and sad and dead looking and the astronaut looked like he was covered in the bubble fungus one of the Ravagers had the week cycle before.  
“Also,” he says, “my uncle said it was all faked anyway. We never made it there, cause our computers were the size of rooms and there's no way they'd get that little thing all the way up there. It was just a big fake movie to prove America could do something better than everyone else.” Peter knows he's using what his mom called his 'adult voice', where he stands a little straighter and talks a little gruffer to prove he knows what's going on and can take charge. Yondu curls his nose up as they walk from under the ship into the field and says, "That does sound kind of made up, your uncle is probably right."   
The moon they're are on now is nothing like home's. There are cirrus clouds that glow oddly orange and purple in a perpetual sunset coloring under the greenish sky where the honeycomb pattern of an artificial environmental atmosphere pulses. Peter wants to compare it to Earth, just on principle, it's the only real comparison he has to use, but he can hardly make the jump. Massive plants sway everywhere even when there is no wind to be felt. “Gymnosperms,” Yondu calls them, then flicks one causing helicopter like seeds to burst from it's hive like cap and fly off in a swarm together as if they know where to go. Peter occasionally catches Yondu swaying similarly to the plants when the two of them stop but he does not think the captain knows he is doing it so he lets it go for fear of asking something he shouldn't. After a small trek around to let Peter see the alien plant life Yondu explains what the prime spot they should be looking for to hunt from would be then sends Peter off ahead to choose. _Like a test_ Peter thinks and does his best to pick. (Sometimes he still worries he will fail a test and be dropped off or finally eaten like the crew keeps threatening.) Where he picks seems to please Yondu greatly and they end up on a high perch between two thick barked rock-like plants that are split down the center with giant flowers that remind Peter of some underwater creatures he saw once on the PBS channel he was allowed to watch on low in the hospital lobby. This is where Peter is given a gun, his first. It's nothing like the guns his grandpa had promised to let him fire when he turned 10, or his cousin's pellet gun. This is a small sleek little rifle that he is shown how to set up properly on three thin magnetic legs that come down like the landing gear on the ships. Yondu does not have a gun, but whistles softly instead and the three tiny arrows attached to his lapel Peter had thought were just decoration swirl up into the air above them in wait.   
They spend the whole day here, in this little pocket perfect weather and late afternoon sun.   
Yondu is almost too good at hunting. Peter thinks maybe it's just the arrow at first. It's faster than even the little bursts from his rifle, quieter definitely, the whistles from the captain sharp but doused down by similar animal sounds around them. But the more Peter watches, Yondu shifts to touch the ground, leans into trees and boulders, listens when Peter is sure there's nothing to listen to. Nothing helpful anyway. When Peter asks, Yondu says he's “Feelin, boy,” when Peter asks what he's feeling, he says “Everything.” Peter wants to ask what that means but doesn't, because everything is too good and there is something comforting in the shoulder pressing to his and the way, even if it's blue, Yondu's big hand helps adjust his hold and to angle things properly, then whoops when he make a shots well. The whole day has a peacefulness and feeling of content Peter wants to keep but knows they can't. At the end of it they come back to the ship with a bundle bag of small game. The further they get from the planet the deeper the lines in Yondu's face get again, the peacefulness fading. Peter vaguely remembers the need to ask about what Yondu had been feeling on the planet but the kid has crawled into the hammock in the hold and Yondu has turned the artificial gravity low enough he feels weightless and sleep comes far too soon to say much else about anything at all.  

_I'm damn lucky you's my boy_

…

Universe Edge, Exitar Space - 2017

What's left of the _Eclector,_ the _Quadrant_ , tilting dramatically followed by Rocket yelling apologies wakes Peter from his childhood dream. It's been weeks since Ego and the majority of their time has been spent lolling around the mothership working on repairs. They still haven't decided what exactly to do with the massive command center – sell it whole, keep it, piece it out - and no one is in a hurry to pick and to be quite honest Peter isn't quite ready to let go of home again so soon. There is also a large part of him that wants this laziness, the chance to mourn something for once instead of jumping immediately into the next adventure, the next galactic crisis, before he's had a chance to really decipher everything that's happened. The ship jerks again and this time the round of curses is from the whole collective of the crew. The most recent adjustments to the gyroscopic engine and auto alignment system that keeps the ship upright against solar winds, and any other aggressive similar force, is being tested on a storm riddled planet, not unlike Jupiter, in the blank empty scape of space that often gets dismissed. It's too easy to forget the massive nothingness bypassed by jumps and leaps and the tendency to stay near common travel ways, life always looks for life. As it were, even nearing the end of their known universe they're still an easy few day glide to Knowhere even without leap capabilities, in case of dire emergency. Assuming they don't get demolished on this gas chamber.   
That's not going perfectly well though, if the floor colliding with Peter's face is any kind of clue. 

..

On the main deck a shadow sprints below the floor joists too quickly to follow exactly what the Halfworld pilot is doing.  
"Rocket!"  
Gamora yells, agitated and only slightly more than concerned from her buckled in position to the left side of the deck, her hair is in disarray from the last spiral the ship has taken and she grips at the arms of her seat watching Groot struggle in Drax's hold closely, ready to jump out and grab the kid in his little Ravager Reds if need be. Kraglin, across the way, has already fallen twice, now grabbing to correct one of Yondu's unstuck suctioned bottom figurines before it tumbles out of reach.   
"Yea, I'm working on it, chick." The small furred male finally pops up from under a panel in the floor and four legs it to a vent on the far wall. "I just need to fix the ratio. It's over correcting too forcefully. I just need to-"   
There's a chatter of excitement, a very electric sounding pop, and then the wild tremors through the whole body of the ship eases to a gentle swaying as Peter stumbles his way onto deck tugging his shirt down. "Got it!" Rocket's head, whiskers and all dip out from the wall, "Oh, hey Quill. Sorry were we being too loud?"   
Peter nearly laughs because Rocket is being honestly considerate even if it's humourously misplaced. "Nah, you're good, it was more the gas planet White River rafting that knocked me out of bed."   
"Ah, sorry, Quill. That wasn't really how that was supposed to work."  
"You're good man, get it worked out?"   
Rocket nods and replaces the bulkhead, using a claw to work the screw caps back in place.   
"Of course, I'm the best aren't I? Really am sorry we woke you up."   
Peter hasn't asked but Rocket had taken Yondu's death harder than he thought he'd had any reason to at the time. Listening later he found out about the mutiny and Rocket spending time in lock up with Yondu, but Quill knows there is a missing conversation in there. Something Yondu had said or did that hit Rocket somewhere pretty deep down and left him, somehow, the most empathetic of the whole crew. Even Mantis was having issues parsing through the myriad of emotions floating around the ship on an hourly basis and stayed mostly attached to Drax. (Who was also constantly telling her she was ugly, much to her apparent joy? And Peter has a feeling that was also another missed conversation.)  
Peter takes a seat and slouches down, tugging his Zune from his pocket to thumb through the music while the others set about the ritual of saving and cataloging the current algorithms and configurations into the mainframe for future use.   
He hadn't thought of that trip to the hunting moon for ages, isn't even sure the moon still exists, but now he wonders what it was Yondu had been talking about back then. About feeling everything. Between Ego, a crater full of skeletons, and hindsight, Peter realizes there had been a lot of things he had never bothered to ask Yondu. Not about himself or his species, his homeworld. He had been too busy hating him in rebellious aggressive bursts to remember Yondu had done more than just idly housed him for the last 20 years. He had raised him, and yea, maybe not with the most delicate hand but something had gone right. The best Yondu could do _did_ lead to Peter being a Guardian of the Galaxy, to being the Star Lord his momma told him he was. He shared a life with Yondu and honestly couldn't say he knew what made the man up if you asked him.  
The tear hitting the screen of the Zune tears him out of his reverie and into the silence of the command deck. Around him his crew watches quietly in varying stages of discontent and concern. Rocket nods when Peter makes eye contact and looks back out the display screen into the chaos of gaseous assault. Gamora does similar while Kraglin watches, glancing from Peter's hands to his eyes and back again before giving his awkward smile, "Any new tunes, cap'n?"   
Quill sniffs and shoves his wrist across his eye, "Yea I've found some stuff on here that's pretty good, made us a playlist. Rocket?"   
"Got the plug here." His paw holds up a cord and Peter tosses the little player over to him to set in on shuffle. R.E.M's _Losing My Religion_ pings into the speakers and Peter sighs, letting the beat of the song bring him back to reality and ease the tense air. Everyone gets back to their individual rituals leaving Peter to watch Kraglin reverently fixing the tiny army of dolls and statuettes on his console. Quill wonders how much Kraglin misses Yondu, he had idolized him and been glued at his side since the moment Peter had been jerked out of Missouri.   
From what Rocket had said Kraglin had stood back and let the mutiny happen, had called Yondu out on letting the Terran off easy over and over, he'd come back but apparently Peter had been the catalyst. Yondu had taken Peter over his oldest friend and that alone left Peter wondering what all he had missed or not put together over the years, how many misses and mutiny attempts had been attempted just because Yondu was trying to raise a half Terran teenage boy on a ship full of intergalactic criminals.   
Kraglin's mohawk has grown out, flopping into his eyes as he polishes a miniature gift shop version of the Shi'ar's M'kraan Crystal and Peter's voice nearly makes him drop it.   
"Hey, Kraglin. Can I talk to you later?"   
The former first mate jerks ramrod straight and fists his chest in the automatic ravager salute, "Sure, yes, captain," the others roll their eyes but leave their comments to themselves and let the Ravager go back to his polishing in peace. They were getting better about little considerations.

..

Once the systems have been worked out the entire crew collectively agrees drinks are in order. And seeing as Knowhere is close and always flowing with alcohol the next stop is obvious with hardly any conversation necessary. It doesn't hurt that since beginning the rebuild of his collection from their last visit, Tivan has taken it upon himself to keep the Guardians happy. Not at all out of friendliness, moreso out of damage control. That and the opportunity to inspect that Groot's growth is going well, under Rocket's intense supervision of course. So when the team lands and the ship is locked down everyone splits into their small factions for the night. Rocket waves off carrying Groot, the twig's head tucked down away from the more adult aspects of the mining camp. For the rest, picking a bar is more of just picking a door on Knowhere and Gamora goes off with Drax and Mantis when Peter motions his own plan to follow Kraglin to a shady bar down an alley away from the others.  
It doesn't quite seem like Kraglin is expecting anyone to follow, half of the time no one does. The Ravager goes with them on occasion but more often than not he seems to automatically float off, maybe looking for some kind of familiar face from before this whole mess.  
"Hey, Krags. Mind if we talk now?"   
Kraglin jumps into his salute and Peter sighs, "You know you don't have to do that right?"   
"Yes, cap- yea. Quill, sorry. Just. Old habits feel nice, even if they aren't necessary anymore, ya know?"   
Peter does know.  
They don't talk right away. Just knock back a few drinks and people watch, stuck in the familiar but acrid scent of spinal fluid fuels and miners hygiene. Peter tries to remember Missouri, wheat and gasoline seems so distant a thought now.   
"How well did you know Yondu?"   
Perking up the Xandarian looks over to Peter curiously. "He was my best friend? What you askin'?"   
"I just never." Peter flattens his hands out to roll his glass between them on the tabletop. "Im realizing there's a lot of things I never knew or asked and I didn't know how much about him you know. Hell, Rocket seems to know more about Yondu than I do now."   
Beside him, Kraglin's eyes narrow a bit, inspecting the younger male. "Like, you know, about him, his childhood, where he was from. He was Centaurian right? You don't ever even hear much about them, why was he all the way out here?" A hand motioned out around him, "The arrow. What was any of it, Kraglin? Who was Yondu Udonta?" Kraglin takes a drink and swishes it around in his mouth for a moment and says again, "He was my best friend. And he was your daddy. You really need to know more than that?"   
Peter looks at the table and the ring of liquid dripping off of his glass, silent for a long moment. He can't remember Missouri much, he remembers the clinical white and astringent smell of his mom's hospital room more than he remembers the corn and gasoline of his uncle's farm, and that too has gotten foggy. But he can still remember that moon. Barely a year later from Missouri and tumors and everything else he had on Earth that he has managed to block or blur, Peter can still recall the smell, the feel of the warmth to his skin and the swaying gynosperms, he could draw the geometric patterns in the sky. If you dropped him there again he's nearly certain he could walk right back to their hunting perch. Peter couldn't navigate Missouri if it was the last place in the galaxy. He remembers what their game smelled like when Yondu taught him how to rig a grill before anyone came back onto the Eclector from Contraxia.  
But most of all he remembers Yondu's hands and the way he could feel the whistles through every pore in his body, sounds and pitches he knew humans couldn't make. Yondu's gruff but patient teaching, arrows guiding the way. There is a distant ache in Peter, something dull and itching, he remembered feeling it when he first left Earth. That feeling of homesickness that he never felt deep enough to truly follow back. The feeling he has now in Yondu's absence is not one he finds himself able to avoid. There is a deep clawing urgency in him that says something about this can be changed, can be followed and fixed.   
Kraglin is watching him, head cocked, brows furrowed, when Peter finally turns to face him head on, "Yea. Yea I need more than that. I'm not- I'm not ready for him to be gone, Kraglin."

 

 


	4. Ass End Edge of the Known Universe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like i'm super late updating this even if i haven't given any exact time expectations between chapters! but! my work schedule was different the last couple of weeks and then life is hectic in between but i hope this makes up for it a little!  
> this chapter is a little dialogue heavy. and this is definitely a learning process for me as i go so i hope this turned out okay, and is easy to follow. i'm trying to keep the dialogue all there with some visuals and character quirks tossed in so it isn't just talking talking talking. i've been mulling over it for a couple of days and i think this is a decent comfortable version of it i've come to.  
> anyways much love always! enjoy!  
> -s

It isn't the best start to the story, or maybe it is, because Quill can't breathe.   
Kraglin says he used to work for Nova Corps and Peter just nearly avoids _entirely_ choking on his alcohol. It burns and lights up his whole throat something fierce, but he can't help it. The image of an even scrawnier Kraglin to start, then with Nova blues hanging off of him and on top of all of that, one of those ridiculous helmets. He can't help it, he laughs, then laughs some more, and a little bit more for measure, and it feels good. It feels real good, so good he sort of wonders if he's laughed since Ego at all.  
"Okay I'm sorry. I'm _sorry_." Peter waves his hand around his ear level.   
"It ain't that funny" Kraglin puffs up, dragging his drink to and fro in annoyance.   
"It's pretty damn funny."   
"Not _that_ funny."   
Peter makes an ' _eh_ ' sound and wobbles his hand noncommittally under Kraglin's continuing glare.   
"Okay," Peter snorts again and then pulls his palms up between them in resignation, "Okay. I'm done. I promise. Keep going."   
"Like I was _sayin_ '." The Xandarian huffs, "I was in Nova. Not for very long, obviously, before Stakar picked me up. Nothin' special, he boarded our ship cause we were movin' some weapons to Prime. Said we could stay all tied up and wait for someone to come get us, go back to our boring lives, or we could come along. It weren't somethin' he always did. I maybe saw him do that three times ever but it's like he knows when there's somethin' in ya you need to find, that you can't get where you are. Knowin' who needs to _escape_. Stakar's an ass on the best of days but damn is he good at stuff like that." Kraglin's drink is topped off by a man with a prosthetic tapped into the drink tabs, the claw rotates and clicks into the acidic looking drink Kraglin has and pours from a hooked brownish aged tube. Peter watches and idly wonders how sanitary that must be, there's no way he cleans that or himself regularly. Kraglin doesn't seem to mind or notice; Peter starts treating his drink like a prop, faux sips and all.   
"Right off, no sooner I got into my reds, Stakar stuck me with Yondu in training. Said if I liked _blue_ so much. Jokin' obviously, he tried real hard to nudge Yondu out of his isolation game. Mostly we was just doin' grunt work and whatnots. Because I was a _skinny_ little kid who could squeeze into places others couldn't. Good for thievin', you know?" He grins and knocks Peter's elbow easily getting a smile back and roll of eyes. Yea. He knows. So well he'd been giving Rocket tips on climbing the _Quadrant_ 's duct routes lately.  
"Yondu was real quiet for a long time,” Kraglin's dirty nails tap against the counter, “the first dozen cycles at least I didn't hardly get but a few words out of him-" There is a ruckus, then a fight breaks out on a betting table so the Ravager scoots closer, leans in so he doesn't have to raise his voice too much.  
"He'd been with Stakar for about a year when I got there but he'd been with the Kree for at least 20 years before that. So I reckon shuttin' up was something he was pretty used to doin'."  
"The _Kree_?" Kraglin watches Quill's brow furrow deep, lips down turning in that way that left his mouth tense but open. Yondu'd told him to shut his mouth before an orlani jumped in it more than once as a kid. He didn't even know what an orlani was back then but he was always quick to shut it, Kraglin doesn't think it's the time to say it to him, but the old impulse is there nonetheless. He had honestly thought Peter knew that much at least.  
"Yea? He never tell you that?"   
Peter shakes his head. He'd never been told where Yondu came from before Stakar. For the longest time he just thought Youdu was a born Ravager, before he realized there wasn't really such a thing. After that his imagination just ran rampant. He had never thought to ask, or never thought he would get an answer so never bothered.   
"I used to come up with a lot of stories in my head when I was a kid, you know? About Yondu running away from home, like a Box Car Kid or something, riding the skyways as a train jumper until Stakar got him because he had one upped him. Stole something from Stakar and so he hired him on, too good of a skill to waste. Then he was made like a Ravager prince or somethin'. Kid me was 'like that's a thing right? The better you are at stealing the higher your title here? Stakar is sort of your king and Yondu always acted like he was his dad sort of. Estranged but, that's how a lot of royalty is right?'"  
Kraglin's nose scrunches with his grin. Quite thoroughly endeared despite himself at the view into little Pete's mind setting such a high standard for his captain. Ravager royalty, even if it was a little absurd.  
"Nah, nothing like that. Yondu's parents sold him into slavery to the Kree when he was a little'un." Kraglin motions down to about Rocket height, "The scars," he traces his thumb along the bone of his cheek to temple then crosshatches down over the faint line his nail scraped, "thems was from the nets they used to grab him up when he tried to get away. Stakar got him from a transport ship they stopped, just by luck really. Stakar didn't have no reason to stop 'em and they didn't have anything really valuable. Not stuffs anyway, it weren't a valuables ship. People though, maybe he knew it was a slave ship, I don't really know, like I said, Stakar is good at knowing things sometimes. I just know he stopped and the other slaves Stakar let free went home but Yondu stayed." Kraglin finishes his drink and motions back toward the door swimming in and out of view behind the ocean of fist fights that had begun to spill over from the gamblers. "Wanna walk? There's drinks on the ship and it's quieter."  
"Yea." Quill cringes at his full drunk, "Yea, let's walk."  
Outside the air is thinner than the pub, much better than the thick sweltering of the bodies pressing together in the gaggling chaos of the bar scene. While no stranger to intergalactic drinking there was something about Knowhere that was too heavy and too outlaw even for Peter to relax in. Contraxia came a close second to Knowhere in means of lack of comfort, but at least on Contraxia it was easier to pretend. The robotic prostitutes were distracting and definitely not going to rob you blind or stab you any time you turned your head.  
"So, what, happened next?"  
Kraglin motions out into the great Tivan Mine, "He became a Ravager."  
"But why? Why not do something else - or go live a normal life? Why not go home?"  
"Why didn't you?"  
Peter stops walking as if he hit a wall, a group of kids bumps by and he feels little hands checking pockets for wallets and units. He ignores them, "What?"  
Kraglin slows to an awkward half turned gait ahead of him so he can watch Peter even at their unmatched pace, "Why didn't you go home, Peter?"  
Quill's brain stalls, halts, skips a few beats.  
"I- I couldn't."  
The look Kraglin gives him is telling and so is the snort and eye roll combination that follows. He turns them in the direction of the _Quadrant_ 's docking slot.   
" _Right_. Couldn't go home. Is that what you're telling yourself? You got the coordinates, kid. Yondu taught you how to drive that ship when you was ten, you been doin' jobs on your own since you was 19, with and _without_ permission. And you _couldn't go home_? You ever even been back to Solar? Anywhere near it?"  
Peter's chest is tight with the truth of that leaving little room for air, “No..”   
Kraglin keys in for the bay door to open, the round portal creaks as it turns and folds into the hull with all the effort of an old man's knees climbing a set of stairs. The cool blue lighting around the seam is somewhat comforting, even if the shrieking of metal isn't, and bleeds onto Kraglin's jumpsuit as he climbs into the ship barely slow enough for the Terran to follow.  
“Why ain't you gone home, Peter?”  
Peter stumbles over his own suddenly faulted reasoning. Twenty years of that reasoning falling down the drain, “I remember for a while it was because Yondu asked me not to.. But I guess... I guess it wasn't home anymore, not like it used to be. I was afraid of it not being what I wanted it to be, of me not being what anyone wanted me to be. I guess...I made this home.”  
The Ravager steps up onto one of the catwalks headed to the cafeteria. “Same for Yondu.”  
Peter has to jog to catch up and walk beside Kraglin on the cramped walk, “Was it just because of his parents?”  
Kraglin shrugs, like he isn't sure that's something he can say or not entirely for certain. “I'm not good at explainin' Yondu – or his people. There's a lot, and you got to know he had a hard time. He wasn't always...well.” One hand scratches up into the officer's greasy mohawk, “For instance, his head, the crest..uh, tahlei I think he called it, it used to be skin and bone. You know? Like a whole piece of him that the Kree ripped off 'cause it was important to the Centaurians. Stakar had the cybernetic replacement made for him. But it's never really the same he said. Centaurians are real empathic, like our Mantis. Sorta.. But different. It's tied real close to their planet and their people and it isn't really based on touch. Yondu woulda been a shaman warrior, you know, if he had gotten to stick around.”  
“A what?”  
Kraglin gathers his breath up for a long explanation and Peter starts listening as if he's nine again and Yondu was explaining creatures on that hunting moon all those years ago.  
“The Centaurians got two groups between them. I don't remember what the other one's call but Yondu's people are called the Habaktu. They believe in what they call the Circle of Life.” Peter refrains from making a Lion King joke that will go lost and only embarrass him, “They got these low level psychic powers and they stay real tuned into their world and the people around them. The crest was part of the connection, I think, maybe.”  
The cafeteria door creaks almost as bad as the bay door, the auto lights flickering on bringing out the waxy yellow undertone to Kraglin that is about the only thing that reminds Peter he didn't come from Earth too. It had taken years for him to believe there was a difference between Xandarians and humans at all.  
“Centaurians are traditionally archers and the whistling helps control the trajectory of their arrows.”  
“Right, that's what Yondu did with his. Are you telling me they still use actual bow and arrows though?”  
Kraglin's voice goes muffled into one of the cool boxes where he starts digging around, Peter just stares at the table like he's never seen it before, like the pieces of this Yondu shaped jigsaw puzzle are piecing together to be thousands of more parts than he signed up for on the box.  
“Yea they do, it just seems like telekinestics-” “Telekinesis?” “-yea that- to other people like us. I think that ties in with the empathicness. He said they had what they called The Way, and that's how they stayed like, tied to each other and the world and people around them. Like ah, like a string what tied to everyone around them.”  
“Yondu never seemed very empathic to me.”  
There's some shifting around in the cool box and then a couple of compartment doors slam before Kraglin comes back to the table with some cold pack sandwiches and four bottles of Asgardian mead that had been stored somewhere pretty well for Rocket to not have found it before now.  
“He was mostly in pain, dull pain anyway, most of the time. For a species built around the nature in their homeworld Yondu spent most of his life in space with robotics wired into his brain.” A large bite of purple meat slides out from between the slices of sweet bread in his hand, “Kinda like how Rocket talks about his cybernetics hurtin' sometimes.”  
Peter tries to imagine a constant white noise in his head over his emotions and his body vibrates in discomfort.  
“But...wouldn't it have been better then. If he had gone home?”  
“He told me once he felt like he didn't belong no more. He wasn't what he was when he left, and they didn't want him anyway, seein' as they sold him and all. It always seemed to me too he felt like he had some kind of destiny out here. Much as he said he'd lost The Way, then when we got older said he didn't believe none of that shit at all anymore anyway, I still caught him doin' little things. Kinda like meditatin' or whistlin' these songs that made you feel light and airy if you got in earshot.”  
Quill's face contorts a bit, remembering some of the actual songs Yondu had whistled softly when they'd been on recon missions together and the Centaurian had demanded the kid needed to leave him alone and sleep. Somehow he always ended up passed out not long after.  
“So why did he ask me not to go home? He _asked_. It wasn't like he ever told me directly, he never banned me from it. Hell, if he had I probably would have gone back out of spite as a kid.”  
“He was protecting you. Like he always did, like he promised before we left Solar.”  
There's a moment of nothing but chewing sounds and the two of them drinking their mead in otherwise silence.  
“From what?” It's out of his mouth before he really dissects what Kraglin has said, and if the prickled look Kraglin has taken on, the straightening of his spine and sudden dip of his head to tuck in around his food says anything, the other male has heard his own mistake as well.  
“Promised _who_?”  
The second bottle of mead hisses, the cap pops off into the ether of the room and Kraglin tries to shrug carelessly, “Himself, Pete. Said he swore he'd never let anything happen to ya.”  
“That's not what you mean. You know that's not what you meant. What did you mean?”  
“Nothin' just the alcohol makin' me trip over my own tongue.”  
“Who did he promise? Ego?”  
Kraglin sputters, spattering alcohol and unknown vegetables, “ _Ego_!?” His hollowed chest puffs up and he slams down his bottle, “Ego! He ain't never promised Ego _nothin_ ' after what he found out he was doin'!”  
“So who in Solar, _on Terra_ , did Yondu promise!”  
“No one. Tellin' ya it was just my phrasin' being off.”  
“Kraglin.”  
“ _What_?”  
Weary eyes avoid contact, skimming along the braces and support beams through the ceiling.  
“Who? My mom?” There's a sudden hopeful tinge to that that makes Kraglin's head tilt so sharply in panic it yanks his muscles uncomfortably, “Yondu knew my mom? Met her? Did he promise her?”  
“No! _No_. Your momma, she was gone. We never even – we never saw her.” He shakes his head vehemently, as if the very thought of that was leaving him ill. “Yondu had even offered to get Miss Meredith before she- but Ego said no - he wouldn'ta taken you and never – never told you something about your momma. You –“ Kraglin shuts his mouth to end sudden chaotic word vomit, collecting himself to make full sentences again. “It was a mess. The whole thing. Getting you for Ego, that entire trip to Terra, it didn't go how we thought. That trip was how we found out he was killin' you kids.”  
“You found out _before_ you left earth?”  
“That's right.”  
“Why not just leave me?”  
“We couldn't. You'd already seen so much. Can you imagine if you came back spoutin' stuff about Grovel to your kin.” Kraglin shook his head as if he still wasn't entirely convinced of the creature either even having worked with him for years on end, “and there was...he promised...”  
Peter watches Kraglin patiently, watching the war behind his eyes on what he was going to say to his best friend's surrogate son next, the kid he'd not even deny was his own last family. It's a long few minutes before Kraglin exhales like the pressure release on the landing gears. Heavy and forceful and sudden.  
“Your brother.”  
“My- _what_?”  
“Half brother, I guess..technically...”  
“I have a brother on earth.”  
There is something in the way Kraglin slouches, worse than his normal posture, and rubs his hands aggressively over his face. “Half brother...you – you weren't the first kid Ego had on Terra..”

There are points in time when life feels similar to the artificial gravity on a ship going on the spritz. Where everything turns to Grandpa Joe and Charlie drinking the Fizzy Lifting Drink. A weightless floating sensation that's just bordering on pleasant in it's ignorance, until you start crashing, heading straight for that giant reality fan about to demolish you.  
This is Peter right now, hovering between a zen like curiosity about a living, human, sibling and a quite literal a shit hitting the fan rage.  
“Why was I never told?”  
“Well-”  
“I'm sure the reason it's something extremely impressive. Like not ever telling me my father was a giant homicidal living god planet? And now I have a brother on Earth. What is he? Some kind of asteroid monster? Were you just never going to tell me?”  
Kraglin swallows so hard his throat clicks around it.  
“Not while Ego was around...but he ain't now so I don't think – It can't be dangerous for you to know now right?”  
He looks torn and Peter can tell his nerves are just as frayed as the rest of them the way he's glancing around, like he's waiting for that secret alone to drag Ego up from the floor panels of the ship and there is a part of him that is honestly sympathetic. Kraglin's only ever done what Yondu told him was best for Peter, and Kraglin only ever did the best he could in turn, even after Yondu's death. He wishes Yondu was here to explain this instead.  
“Well I know now so get to talkin'.”  
Kraglin's throat works down the second bottle of mead, then steals what was meant to be Peter's second bottle from the other side of the table and snaps it open too. Their food has gone forgotten and the _Quadrant_ is eerily quiet, the vast network of metals and alloys shifting and breathing around them. Kraglin seems to come to terms with the fact this is how this night is going to go, holed up in what's left of his old life alone with the kid who triggered it all docked in the ass end edge of the known universe.  
“Yea...alright, Petey. His name's Remy. Remy Etienne LeBeau. And he wasn't so much _born from_ Ego as he was _made for_ him, but I guess it's all the same at the end of the day, ain't it?”

 

 


End file.
